


Stupid Goddamn Motorcycle

by shmorgas



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: A lot of cursing, Alternate Universe - Human, Boys are being idiots about feelings, Clothed Sex, Frottage, M/M, Outdoor Sex, There's some porn but it's super soft core, Unsafe Sex, just talk, sexy motorcycles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-24
Updated: 2014-07-24
Packaged: 2018-02-10 05:11:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2012190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shmorgas/pseuds/shmorgas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott has a fancy new bike and a fancy new best friend. Stiles is not happy about it. </p><p>"The day that Scott comes home with a motorcycle, Stiles knows that he’s doomed. Melissa is going to kill him and Scott because if Scott’s in trouble, then Stiles follows him. Isaac, of course not thinking about the end of their lives, is thrilled."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stupid Goddamn Motorcycle

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the cute [art](http://underwildwood.tumblr.com/image/92737775214)created by underwildwood. I am so happy that I got to write this!

The day that Scott comes home with a motorcycle, Stiles knows that he’s doomed. Melissa is going to kill him and Scott because if Scott’s in trouble, then Stiles follows him. Isaac, of course not thinking about the end of their lives, is thrilled.

“Now you can ride with me!” he exclaims. He fails to mention the others that are a part of, what the town now calls the bikers, a gang but considering how Scott doesn’t get along with them, it was a good decision on Isaac’s part.

“Yeah, that would be cool,” Scott answers. Stiles loses track of the rest of the conversation as he eyes the Harley resting in the McCall driveway. It’s brand fucking new, with gleaming chrome and a sleek paint job. Stiles notes offhandedly that it must of cost Scott about year’s or so’s pay. Or maybe it came from the recent increase of cash flow from the baptismal gift bonds. Whatever the case, Scott now fulfilled his ten year dream to own a bike.

“Just me and my bike! Nothing else!” the eight year old Scott had exclaimed during lunch back in elementary school.

“Can I come with you?” Stiles asked. It was the first lunch without a smiley face on the pudding cup in his lunchbox. 

“Well duh, I wouldn’t go without you,” Scott proclaimed.

Seeing Scott and Isaac talk specs, now that those years have passed and Scott finally has that bike, is changing that.

“I’m heading out,” Stiles announced.

“But the pizza’s almost here!” Scott protested.

“Despite the allure of pepperoni, I’m out. I’d rather make sure that my dad stays away from the curly fries than see Scarf Boy,” Stiles states.

“That was so fucking lame Stilinski,” Isaac calls out from behind the couch. 

“Better than being a pretentious douche!” Stiles yells back.

“Dude-,” Scott starts.

“Seriously man, enjoy pigging out without me,” Stiles forces a smile and ducks out. He ignores the fast beating of his heart at the thought that Scott was disappointed he wasn’t going to stay. Like all things regarding Scott after puberty, Stiles stuffs those racing heart beats with a million little other moments in a dark place.

X.x.X

Stiles gets home. Throws his backpack on the couch. Goes to the kitchen. Opens the fridge. Drinks the milk. Puts it back. Closes the door. Pushes his forehead on the door.

Pining makes Stiles melodramatic, like he was the angsty protagonist of those “avenge my family” action movies with the constipated face. He snorts at the thought.

“Don’t pull a Derek, Stilinski. You’re way too pretty for that,” he mutters. If there was at least one thing that was fair in the universe it was that he was much better at hiding his crush from Scott than Derek. Derek for all of that perceived stoicism had an emotional boner for Scott that could be seen from space, pardon the overused cliche. Stiles at least can keep his romantic feelings under the years of easy friendship. Derek was like Helga from that old cartoon Hey Arnold. Stiles wondered if there was a heart shaped picture frame featuring one Scott McCall hidden in that leather jacket.

Maybe he can convince Derek to make out with him because they were in the same club. You know, the Scott McCall Is So Perfect And Us Mere Mortals Can Never Have Him Because He Is Sunshine Personified And Good Lord WHY HAVE WE DEVOLVED INTO LOVESICK FOOLS? club. SMISPAUMMCNHHBHISPAGLWHWDILF for short. Not that it’s even short. God, the acronym is as bad as Stiles’ name.

Lame and overused humor has now been noted as a symptom of a lovesick Stiles. And internal monologue with shitty comparisons.

He pulls out his phone and presses a speed dial.

“Hello?”

“Heather, I find myself in need of your dad’s wine collection. Which bottle can we use?” he asks. 

“Your dad working late?” she answers in lieu. 

“Not coming until the early morning,” he replies.

“Any preferences?” Heather asks.

“I need something that makes me sound less like Keats and more like Hemingway,” Stiles states. 

“You also need to not talk English Lit to me, I had my final today,” she groaned.

“Great, come over and we’ll whine and wine about it!”

“Your humor sucks.”

“Theme of the goddamn evening.”

X.x.X

The words were beginning to run on the page. Scott was distracted. His pen kept tapping on the page and he felt like Stiles without meds, mind going off and nothing relevant getting done. The shiny motorcycle in the driveway isn’t helping. He gazes at it lovingly once more as a grin once again graces his face. It’s like seeing Allison for the first time all over again but the moment is with an object.

Sure the dirt bike was pretty awesome. It helped convince his mom that motorcycles were an acceptable mode of transportation! Ladies and gentlemen loved seeing him swing his legs, long and strong draped in tight dark skinny jeans that did not emasculate him, on or off the seat! He had friends who also rode (though the number of people he knew and didn’t like was much higher than what was in the friend’s column)! His reputation went up in the world now with his own set of wheels! The only con was that Stiles wasn’t driving him to school anymore. Or anywhere.

Scott’s brow furrowed and he looked at his phone. It hadn’t gone off at all and it wasn’t because it was on silent. The obnoxious “check your fucking phone Scott” that Stiles recorded during the middle of “WE’RE TRAINING YOU SCOTTY IN THE WAYS OF WOO” session in the early days of “Allison Argent is Perfect with a Captial P” didn’t go off at any point in the night. 

“Come on dude,” he says to his phone willing for Stiles to text him like he was Professor X or Jean Grey. He needs Stiles to say something first because he was being weird today and Scott has no idea how to fix it. 

If he texts first asking Stiles about how he feels, there’s going to be a smartass remark and a deflection. If Stiles is really pissed, he’ll say that Scott is his bro not his mom and then the guilt is going to be added because goddamnit Stiles, using your dead mom to attack your best friend is not the healthy way to go about saying you’re emotionally constipated. Not that Scott can claim much in the emotional department other than being an adorable puppy. 

Stiles’s words, not his. Though Scott thinks that he’s heard Derek mumble it once or twice. He likes to try to forget any interaction with Derek because of reasons like once-sided dislike and affection. Three guesses on which emotion belongs to whom and honest to God, the first two don’t count because hello, this shit is obvious.

Obvious.

Fuck.

Scott is enveloped by a wave of emotions that can be summed up as HOLY MOTHERFUCKING SHIT, I AM SO FUCKING SCREWED. Not the PSAT vocabulary that came with a summer of college prep work but panic was setting in. He just ruined the longest fucking relationship that he’s ever had with anyone and wow does he feel like shit.

Stiles knows about Scott’s feelings for him. He knows and is so fucking uncomfortable with the new piece of knowledge and now he’s pulling away because Scott couldn’t just conceal it because Stiles is everything and oh god oh god oh god. There’s a gasping noise and Scott is scrambling for his fast acting inhaler. (:D love this part too!!)

“Scott? Scott honey, are you okay?” his mom calls from downstairs. Her footsteps are thudding up the stairs and she throws the bedroom door open just as Scott manages to pull out the inhaler from his backpack. Melissa walks in as the Nurse Professional, rather than hysterical mom, letting him do what he needs to, tracking the deep breathes and eventual even-breathing.

“It’s been a while since you’ve had an attack,” she notes.

“I got really worked up about something but I think I’m going to be okay,” he says to her. It’s the truth without revealing too much. 

“Is it related to finals or Isaac and Allison because I don’t think this household can take much more stress than what it’s already been through,” she sternly tells him.

“It’s nothing like that Mom. I’m going to be okay,” Scott tries to reassure her with a smile.

“I’m not buying it,” Melissa says flatly. There’s a silent beat or two.

“Do you think Stiles would ever abandon me?” Scott blurts out all at once.

“Unless you murdered the Sheriff, I don’t think he’ll ever leave you. In fact I think he’s afraid you’ll leave him,” she observed.

“Why the hell would I leave him?!” he shouts, his defenses up in mere seconds.

“You will not shout at me Scott Rafael McCall so sit your ass down,” Melissa hisses her mom-voice forcing her son to obey completely and without question. “You have been spending a lot of time with the bike, Isaac, and Derek in that order. Frankly, I’m concerned about the amount of sad eyes that poor Hale boy sends to you. Never mind that now, when was the last time you spent time with Stiles?”

The pause answers all.

“So why don’t you do something with him tomorrow? Take him out on that bike or something,” she suggests.

“As long as you don’t tell the Sheriff,” he says with a hint of a smile.

“Deal.”

X.x.X

There’s a phone blaring and nobody is answering it. Stiles is floating somewhere among the stars but is rapidly crashing back down as the damn phone keeps screaming “STILES, ANSWER YOUR PHONE” because Scott thought he was being funny and made that his ringtone. Stiles groans and pulls the quilt over his head. Maybe if he ignored it everything will go away. Like the pounding headache. 

But alas, wineovers were bigger bitches than the regular hangovers due to some science shit that Stiles really didn’t want to think about. Everything hurt too much to have him do anything other than answer the phone. He groans and makes motions that may or may not facilitate his mental capacities.

“Scotty no,” Stiles breathes into the phone. The ringing happens yet again but right in his fucking ear.

“FUCKING SHITBAGS!” he screams, chucking his phone as far away from the couch as humanly possible.

“Get the fuck back to sleep Stiles!” Heather yells from up the stairs.

“Get my phone to shut the fuck up so I can fucking do that!” Stiles yells back.

“Not my phone, not my problem. NOW FIX IT!” she screams. He mumbles some unkind things about technology and God and alcohol as he flops himself onto the floor, crawling like an inchworm wrapped in blankets to the offending device. After a harrowing journey that made crawling through a scorching desert without any water more fun, Stiles finally gets his hands on the object that has caused the worst fucking pain to ever fucking happen to him at this moment in time like the universe was out to murder him because holy fuck this pain was so fucking indescribable. Save for using the word fuck a lot.

“Scotty, go suck a cock,” he groans into the phone.

“Good morning to you too Stiles. Did you and Heather hit the cellar last night?” Scott asks cheerfully.

“I can’t reveal that information as it conflicts with the whole ‘we used to take baths together when we were three and too stupid to understand that a penis was not something to laugh and punch at’ foundation of our friendship,” Stiles says.

“And I thought you peeing a moat into my sandcastle was something special!” Scott teases.  
“Not so loud, your voice is about to make me throw up,” Stiles hisses.

“Okay. Come over later today, I have to show you something,” Scott stage whispers causing his voice to get a little warped over the phone. “Grunt once for agreeing, twice for shut the fuck up but I’m coming anyway.”

Stiles grunted twice and then hung up, letting his head rest on the cold wood floors as to ease the headache and pains that come with too much alcohol. Why did he go and visit Heather? Why did he insist that it had to be a wine and whine night? All of Stiles’s life choices leading up to this moment are awful, awful decisions. They are wrong and the floor is cold and hard. The only thing that’s worth anything right now is the wooden floor. He drifts back to unconsciousness as the dull roar fades away to the ever blissful silence.

X.x.X

The jeep eventually pulls up to the McCall house and Scott can’t keep the smile off his face as he watches Stiles stumble out. He’s wearing the most obnoxious pair of Ray Bans and his hair is sticking up all over the place. His clothes were rumpled more than usual and it was then that Scott felt that there was no one that he could ever love more than this hung-over boy with a ridiculous Polish name and too many moles to count. 

“Dude, you look like you’ve been run over by a subway or something,” Scott calls out from his place on the bike.

“Ha, you wish. This appearance is thanks to a night of debauchery on a lovely weekday. You could never pull this off,” Stiles jokes.

“Not without you buddy,” Scott cheerfully says.

“I take it you didn’t invite me just to make fun of my hungover ass,” Stiles says. Scott wishes he could see where those eyes were looking at because you know, eyes are the window to the soul, everyone wants to look in the eyes of their beloved requited or not, etc.

“Nope. I’m going to teach you how to drive a motorcycle!” he announces.

“Wait, what?” Stiles asks with a dumbfounded expression. “You’re asking me to cheat on Roscoe!”

“I know that your one true love is Roscoe-” Scott began.

“Exactly Scott, you know better than anyone! I’m not going to learn to ride a motorcycle, ever. I’ll leave that to you,” Stiles interrupted, punctuating each word with a hand gesture. Scott’s hearts stutters a little bit in hurt but he pushes on.

“Then why don’t you take a ride with me?” 

“Wait, what?” 

“You need to stop repeating yourself. I thought you had a quippy comeback for every single unexpected thing in your life,” Scott teases.

“Well fuck you dude,” Stiles snarks. “Do you even have extra leathers and other protective gear? You know, for when you inevitably crash and then I become roadkill because you were showing off?” 

“Of course I have extras! Mom made me buy a lot of them before I was allowed to buy the dirt bike,” Scott exclaims.

“Well then, thank God for your Mom. Just tell me you didn’t buy them all in Allison or Kira size,” Stiles sighs.

“That would be creepy and kinda stalkerish,” Scott points out, hinting heavily at Stiles’s own behavior with Lydia. 

“Fair enough. You’re not going to drop this unless I go with you, are you?” 

“I’ll use the puppy dog eyes on you.”

Stiles pulls off his sunglasses like he was an over dramatic parody cop that utters “Mother of God” in the face of incredible insanity plus hijinks and his pretty pink mouth opens wider than normal.

“Scott, we had this talk. You wouldn’t dare use that weapon of mass destruction on me,” he says.

“Put on the leather jacket and then we’ll see,” Scott offers with a wry grin.

“God, everyone thinks that I’m the devious and evil one. How wrong they are,” Stiles laments.

“Nobody knows me like you do,” Scott smiles. 

“Damn straight.”

X.x.X

“So how do I look?” Stiles asks after being directed to the storage where the protective gear was placed.

“Ready to go. Hop on!” Scott called out, waving him over to the bitch seat. 

“You better respect me in the morning,” Stiles grumbles. He snakes his arms around Scott’s waist, ignoring the sudden thump-thump of his heart. It was rational to hang on tightly to the person driving this contraption of death and destruction. Also, if they flipped, he was going to be taking Scott with him. He wasn’t going to let go, ever.

“Uh, sandcastle,” Scott says and puts the bike in motion.

The ride around town was mostly a blur since Stiles was trying very hard to not think about how he could easily die a thousand different ways. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Scott. A large percentage of motorcycle accidents occurred because of dumbass car drivers that weren’t paying attention to the road because they were texting or some shit. The only downside to trying to focus on the many reasons why driving anything in America was a war. It usually had the vehicles winning. Now Stiles’s brain likes to focus on how he was hanging onto his best friend in an intimate manner.

The wind made the comparative temperature of Scott’s skin seem blazing hot. Stiles has touched Scott thousands of times even after the revelation because it was the only thing that made sense to him anymore; however, the constant contact is driving him absolutely batshit crazy. He can feel how rock hard Scott’s abs really are. It makes him wonder if his skin is super soft under the leather and layers. Stiles is going insane with the questions, fucking insane.

“Stiles, we’ve stopped,” Scott says softly.

“Oh. The hell ride is over?” Stiles asks a little excitedly. He keeps his arms around Scott though because he’s selfish like that.

“Nope, we’re at the entrance of the Preserve.”

“Christ Almighty, why did you drive, or is it ride, us all the way out here?”

“You don’t want to commune with nature?”

“I’m not Isaac.”

That last statement comes out a little harsh, even for Stiles. Scott frowns deeply and Stiles wants to kick himself. He gets off the bike instead to try to put distance between him and Scott. This was going to end in hell and he might have to call Lydia at the end of the day to pick him up. 

“What’s going on Stiles? You’ve been on edge lately and I know it’s more than just not liking Isaac,” Scott asks.

“Why should I even like him? He’s just a pretentious hipster who loves scarves and following you around like a puppy begging for your attention!” Stiles answers. 

“Derek does the same thing and you don’t freak out about that!” Scott exclaims a hint of anger coloring his tone.  
“That’s because we all know that you aren’t into Derek!” Stiles yells.

“And I’m into Isaac? Oh come on Stiles!” Scott yells.

“You have a type and an MO: falling for adorable but incredibly homicidal people and then ditching me completely! ” Stiles hollers.

“Like you didn’t do that to me with Lydia or Malia!” Scott hisses.

“I had the decency to send you a text to cancel plans if it came to it, I was left to hang out in the cold!”

“Christ Stiles, where the hell is this all coming from? I thought we fixed this!” Scott yells. For a small tiny moment Stiles is proud that he made Scott upset.

“Wait a goddamn second, you’re distracting me!”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Stiles asks and there’s a hint of panic in his voice. He’s so fucking busted it’s not even funny.

“We sorted this out months ago and I promised that I would never do that to you again,” Scott says.

“Maybe I’m still angry,” Stiles says petulantly.

“You got freaked out by something during the ride over. What happened?” Scott demands kindly. There’s a hand resting on Stiles’s bicep and God, does the fight bleed out of him.

“I just can’t,” he confesses.

“You can’t what?” Scott asks. Stiles is silent because what the hell is he going to say now? I’m in love with you? I know we’ve always told everyone that we’re brothers from another mother and father but I don’t feel like that for you? You’re my soul mate? Help me I’m drowning in you?

All of that was cliched and pointless. All those sentiments come out of poorly written romance books and movies made to brainwash people into thinking that these words will fix everything in the world. Stiles has seen true love and it doesn’t look like anything Hollywood sells if he’s going to be a hipster about it. 

This internal monologue is interrupted with Scott pulling his hand away from Stiles. It feels sad and lonely and it gives Stiles hope to do something so fucking crazy. To take the plunge.

He grasps Scott’s hand and twines their fingers together.

X.x.X

They’re holding hands and Stiles still hasn’t told him what was going on. Stiles takes his other hand and places it on the side of Scott’s neck. 

“Scott, I’m...it’s...shit this is hard,” Stiles mutters.

“You’re fine,” Scott says breathily. 

“Like you even know what I’m about to say,” Stiles chuckles. A shy smile spreads across his face and it’s something precious.

“Sandcastles man,” Scott says, answering with a large grin of his own.

“That means nothing Scott,” Stiles says.

“No, it means everything,” Scott replies. Then he cuts Stiles off with a kiss which suddenly illuminates everything. All of the cliches are there: fireworks going off somewhere in his chest, electricity was racing through his veins, his heart is skipping a beat. There was more depth to them though, something utterly Scott-and-Stiles.

Stiles’s mouth was plush and greedy. He consumed Scott like he was going to disappear from underneath him. They toppled over onto the ground and Stiles pinned Scott with his thighs straddling his waist. It kinda hurt but it was mostly hot to be manhandled. The lack of sticks digging into Scott’s back is an added bonus as well.

“God, Scott, you just fucking don’t know,” Stiles mutters over every bruising kiss down that uneven jawline, nips underneath the hinge.

“Holy hell Stiles,” Scott groans his hips surging upwards. 

“I’m going to come and ruin the leather and make this ride back such an incredible bitch because I’m not holding back ever again,” Stiles growls grinding his hips down. Their cocks are hard and the layers are making the friction impossible to bear. They’re grabbing and pushing and squeezing because God, there’s not enough to go around. 

Scott starts fumbling with Stiles’s zipper and it’s really hard to get a dick out when the person who owns it is bouncing up and down like a bunny. 

“Stay still Stiles, you’re making it hard for me to get the D,” Scott says. 

“Wouldn’t want you to think that I’m easy,” Stiles stutters out.

“Right now you’re killing the mood,” Scott spits out.

“Actually, you probably did it yourself since you thought about me as a cute animal,” Stiles pants. He gets a teasing slap on his ass as a response which makes him break into a smirk.

“I thought we were having a rut in the woods,” Scott pouts.

“Wow, Scotty boy, so kinky. Now I need you to shut up,” Stiles says leaning down to kiss him. The search for cock has been abandoned in favor of the fervent destructive kisses they’re exchanging. There isn’t anything to say as everything devolves. 

Then Scott stills and groans, his vision going fuzzy and his brain shorts out. There’s nothing going on outside of the high and rush of the orgasm, the sudden release of a long-awaited moment. 

“So fucking hot Scott,” someone is mewling and it takes Scott a second to remember that there’s a person on top of him and that person is the most important thing in the universe right now.

“Stiles,” he breathes out and Stiles goes off groaning and collapsing on top of Scott. There’s some heavy panting and silence save for the chirping of birds and the dull roar of their hearts that reminded them that they actually did the do in the woods. 

“Did we just live a high school romantic comedy?” Scott asks after a moment.

“The fact that we’re going to be fused together, thanks to our jizz, because we have pent up romantic and sexual tension that couldn’t be fixed with words because of a long standing friendship kinda indicates that we ran through all the cliches,” Stiles answers.

“The movies never told me how gross the sex part was,” Scott observes wrily. 

“Neither did porn and wow, remember when we watched ‘2 girls, 1 cup’?” Stiles asks.

“Oh shit man, I did not need that imagery in my brain in the middle of post-orgasmic bliss!” Scott howls shoving Stiles off of him. Stiles explodes into laughter as he watches the puppy face of disgust morph and change into the many levels of holy hell I really need brain bleach right this fucking minute goddamnit Stiles.

“That’s the deal: we have really hot, kinky sex in public places that has the both of us busting a nut but is eventually ruined by my smartass mouth,” Stiles says. There’s a tension around his mouth though as he’s saying it like he was still worrying whether or not Scott is actually willing to be with Stiles in a romantic manner. Scott reaches out to where Stiles is laying on the ground and rolls himself over. In moments he is positioned right over Stiles and holding himself up by the forearms.

“I wouldn’t trade that in for anything,” he says, kissing Stiles softly. The simple pressing of lips, especially after such an intense passion, lights something deep within Scott. He hopes it’s the same for Stiles.

They lay there on the ground for a few moments just trading kisses back and forth. Scott notices that Stiles’s attention wanders off after a while.

“Hey babe, whatcha you thinking about?” Scott asks.

“You dare to call me babe now? Who gave you permission to call me babe?” Stiles teases.

“I don’t know. Maybe this gorgeous guy with beautiful eyes,” a quick punctuation made by kisses on the eyelids, “constellation skin,” kissing the moles all over his face, “and a smart ass mouth,” a chaste kiss on the lips, “that I really want to take out and be my boyfriend,” Scott says playing along with him.

“Is it because of sex?” Stiles asks, purposefully playing dumb.

“No Stiles, will you stop talking about sex now? I want to cuddle with my boyfriend in the woods if he lets me,” Scott exclaims.

“Boyfriends? That’s something you really want?” Stiles asks softly.

“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t. Before we started arguing, I was actually going to confess to you out here,” Scott admits. 

“You were going to do a big romantic confession in the middle of Beacon Hills Preserve where Park Rangers are notorious for being grumpy and kind of hateful?” Stiles inquires skeptically.

“You need to stop bringing Derek up every time I try to have an emotional conversation with you,” Scott frowns.

“Out of the two of us, you’re the one who happens to have the most emotional maturity. I think you surpass all the adults we know save for your mom in levels of adult emotional maturity,” Stiles insists.

“Look, the point is that I love you. I want to be with you if you let me,” Scott says.

“You love me?”

Oh shit Scott did not mean to say that out loud. Not yet anyway.

“Uhhhhhhhh….”

“Scott, after making a big deal about having to have emotional maturity, you can’t back out of acknowledging that you said I love you to me,” Stiles says. His hands grip on Scott’s biceps in a mirror image of the argument earlier. Scott takes a deep breathe. His turn to be brave.

“I once read a quote by Bruce Lee and it goes like this: love is like a friendship caught on fire. In the beginning a flame, very pretty, often hot and fierce, but still only light and flickering. As love grows older, our hearts mature and our love becomes as coals, deep-burning and unquenchable-”

“How the holy hell did you remember all of that? There’s no way that you could have remembered all of that shit,” Stiles interrupts. 

“Told you, I had a plan! Anyway the point is that I love you and I wasn’t going to say that right away but that’s the truth. I’ve loved you since the sandcastle,” Scott confesses. Stiles sits up and kisses Scott deeply.

“Love you too.”

The words are softer than anything that Stiles has ever said to Scott before. They kiss for a little while longer before the sticky situation in their jeans and on their leathers becomes a larger problem than before.

“We need to get moving. My dick is going to chafe soon,” Scott admits, standing up and wincing the entire time. 

“And you say I ruin the mood. Help me up,” Stiles commands. An almost sex noise escapes once he’s fully standing. “Please tell me why you insisted on taking the bike.”

“Because I found that motorcycles are a way to easily seduce the man you really care about,” Scott says. They’re getting on the bike when Stiles is still for a moment, like he’s had an epiphany. 

“So when we were eight, you said you wanted a bike to go cross country!” he exclaims.

“Yeah, because you and your parents just went down to the beach for three weeks in the summer!” Scott says.

“Oh my God, my childhood has been a lie. How dare you Scotty!” Stiles asks in a fake appalled voice. Scott quickly turns around and kisses him. Then takes out his phone, puts it in the prime selfie position, and says “Cheese!”

“And that random ass picture?” 

“The start of the journey.”

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to thank my artist, betas, and the mods for being so patient and encouraging with me with this fic. You are all very understanding people that I am very fortunate to have work with me. Confession, this is the longest I have ever wrote in a very long time. I very much hope that you all enjoy it!
> 
> Here's my [tumblr](starmorgs.tumblr.com)!


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